


epinephrine plows through the barriers

by theackles



Series: destiel drabbles [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - Wings, Angel Castiel, Angel Wings, Bodyswap, Brotherly Love, Castiel Possesses Dean, Dean Takes Care of Castiel, Future Castiel, Hurt Castiel, Immortality, Implied Castiel/Dean Winchester, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Medical Procedures, Old Castiel, Old Kingdom Mythology, Past Lives, Profound Bond, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Sam Winchester, Sharing a Body, Soldiers, War, Wings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:24:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2611670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theackles/pseuds/theackles
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In Dean’s dream, he remembered a more casual Castiel who had become human and liked to lounge and kiss Dean when he frowned. The man before him was too stiff and too proper to even reflect the man in his dreams, and somehow, he was disappointed.</p><p>“What happened to you?”</p><p>“I got old. You were lost to me, and only recently, when I sensed your presence in the garden, did I realize we’d always come back together — did I realize that you were here all along.”</p><p>“So?” Dean persisted, eyebrows arching expectantly.</p><p>Castiel frowned, and Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to the Angel’s. Castiel’s form melted almost completely, naturally, and he was the Castiel in Dean’s dream once more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	epinephrine plows through the barriers

**Author's Note:**

> This is what somehow came out of The Last Garrison by Enter Shikari. You can listen, if you'd like, but after the final editing, it didn't really go with the song anymore haha.
> 
> Anyway, here is a Destiel drabble I wrote. It's pretty cool, it has wings and stuff. :D You cannot go wrong with wings. Oh and, Castiel possesses Dean! Neat.
> 
> Kudos and comments are much appreciated! Thank you to everyone who reads :) Hope you enjoy!

The signal bells rang loudly through the station building, flashing red lights bright over each man’s eyes. Each man — twelve of them — grabbed their guns and started up into a march as the Colonel led them out of the garrison building and into the battlefield. They were back up, in case the soldiers didn’t defeat the enemy — a very large pack of demons, three hundred at least — except they were back up for the original back up, the first garrison who was dispatched at first warning.

“Get out there and don’t get killed!” The Colonel yelled over the war cries, the screeches of demons, the screams of the dying, the gunfire. The Colonel started to shout out directions and routes to the main field when one of his main men started running — Dean Winchester. “Winchester! What the hell are you doing, son?! Get back here!”

“Sam’s out there!” Dean yelled, turning his head just a sharp second to salute his men. “Do good out there!” He ran off, going as fast as his damn booted feet could carry him.

The rain started pouring down barely a half minute after that.

“Sam, Sam, Sam…” Dean wheezed as he came to a stumbling stop just outside the main field, dripping wet. Sam was part of the first garrison — just an unlucky drawl that he wasn’t put in the same boat with Dean. Suddenly, the hairs on the back of Dean’s neck stood on end, and his fingers reached around swiftly to brush across the damp wooden handle of the demon blade tucked under his armor. “Come out, you son of a bitch,” he whispered, green eyes wide in alert.

The demon screeched and came out as black smoke, forming as a man with deep black eyes and a sinister smile. He surged forward, baring his teeth, and Dean’s knife plunged into his chest. His veins and his eyes lit up like streaks of red electricity, and then he collapsed limp against the knife.

With a grunt, Dean shoved him away, and reopened his eyes for Sam.

“SAM!” He screamed, his voice deep from his chest, echoing through the woods just hidden away from the cleared field, full of bodies and demons alike. With careful footing, he began out, checking each face, turning over every body, analyzing everything. “SAM!” He screamed again when he realized he was surrounded by dead strangers.

“Dean!” A voice hissed from bushes to his right. Dean haphazardly walked over, boots squishing in the mud, then was pulled into the greenery by a strong hand. He collapsed just as a muddy, soaked Sam came out of the shadows, his eyebrow and lip bleeding, and a large bullet wound in his shoulder.

“Dammit, Sam, are you okay?” Dean shook him, checking him over, wiping away as much mud as he could from his face. The rest began to melt away with the rain and the water dripping from Sam’s long hair.

“Yeah, I’m fine —” Sam gasped, clasping a hand around Dean’s shoulder. “I — I found him.”

Dean’s heart rate accelerated. “You — what?”

“I found him.” Sam repeated, a smile breaking across his face.

The entire point of the stupid war was over something this Kingdom had — the Angel. The last of it’s kind, all alone, and so very old. He was stationed here for safety. No one’s ever seen him, except for the higher powers. Some even thought he was a damn myth, until Dean had accidentally stumbled across him one cold day in the garden. His back was turned, but out of his worn overcoat, was large, sleek, white wings that ruffled and twitched underneath the sun. Dean ran before it knew he was even there. Otherwise he wouldn’t have been so apt to join this god forsaken war. He knew what he was fighting for — those beautiful feathers.

“Is he,” Dean gulped, “Is he okay?”

“That’s the thing!” Sam laughed quietly over the screeching of another demon taking out another human. “Come with me, quickly!” Sam stood up, a small limp in his left leg as he jogged. Dean shook his head and ran after him, making sure to keep the demon blade out in case of any intruders.

Sam stumbled through some bushes and then collapsed on the ground near another field where several dead demons were in piles of ashes all around. In the middle of the field was a large, glowing, white light, with bright, white, wings spread wide. Barely, you could see the angel’s passive face, his feet planted firmly on the grassy ground.

“He’s not even affected. He’s doing...whatever this is, and whenever a demon even comes close, they burn up into ashes.” Sam explained quickly. “I’ve been over here watching him. I only left when I heard the bell to come find you. That’s when...all this happened,” Sam chuckled, gesturing down his body.

Dean shook his head and was about to stumble out of the brush when another demon came surging forward, a look of determination on his face when he collided with the glowing orb that was the Angel. It shrieked, and then like the others, fell into another pile of ash.

Dean gave Sam a look, one Sam knew, and walked out, gaining the Angel’s full and sudden attention. It’s orb grew dimmer and suddenly, it was gone, showing just a man with unspeakably beautiful wings — albeit dripping with water — standing there. That’s when Dean noticed the bloody wound on his side.

“Hey, you’re hurt,” Dean said, holding a hand out towards the bloody wound when he neared the Angel. He couldn’t help but notice how much larger, wider the Angel’s wings were up close. Each feather was the size of his arm, and they were at least 100 feet wide, but drenched and waterlogged, making them limp on the ground, and heavy.

“Yes, seems so I am.” It said, voice deep and gravelly. It looked down with electric blue eyes to it’s wound, and then back up to Dean. “I believe I am dying.”

“No, no,” Dean laughed quietly as Sam took a place beside of him. “It’s just a little cut. We can patch you up — plus, you’ve got Angel mojo, right? Heal yourself right up.” He sent the Angel a reassuring smile, but it only frowned up at him.

“I was stabbed with a knife that was soaked in poison that delays my powers. With this wound, I cannot heal myself.” It explained briefly, shaking it’s head. “And I am bleeding profusely. My vessel will run out of blood soon.”

Dean glanced over to Sam who got the idea and crouched down beside of the Angel to take a better look. “This is my brother, Sam, and I’m Dean. We’re gonna get you outta this hellhole, okay? Back home, safe, in the palace until all of this is over with.” Dean gave another smile. “Why are you out here anyway?”

“I wanted to help.” It said simply. “My name is Castiel.”

“Good.” Dean grabbed his shoulder. “I like that name.”

Castiel smiled tightly as Sam poked at his wound, shooting a bad glance at Dean. “You will not be able to fix this, will you?”

“Well,” Sam stood back up, and Dean could practically see the gears turning in his head. “With you still up and moving around in your, um, vessel —”

A demon screeched from a distance, and Castiel’s arm shot out and a beam of light left his palm and lit up his eyes a pale, glowing blue, and the demon fell in a heap of ash at the edge of the field. Sam’s eyes widened as he glanced to Dean, who shrugged and kept a firm hand on the Angel’s shoulder.

Like expected, the wound weeped just a little harder.

Sam continued quickly. “Castiel, are you capable of switching bodies?”

Castiel looked passive for a moment, considering. “Yes. But they must be alive and willing. They must pray for it.” He explained briefly. “This vessel was made for me and he prayed for it many years ago. If I take a vessel that was not made for my true form, in a matter of days, I will burn through it.”

Sam gulped. “Alright, well, how about this — you switch to a body really quick and we’ll take your vessel and patch him up and heal him, then you can have him back.”

“There are no willing participants.” Castiel shook his head, water dripping from the black ends and into his blue eyes. “I am very old. Many of my brothers and sisters are dead, and I believe I am okay with that.”

“No,” Dean suddenly seethed, hand tightening around the Angel’s shoulder. “You aren’t just going to throw yourself away because of a stupid stab wound!”

“What are we supposed to do, Dean?” Sam hissed quietly over the war cries and demon’s nearing them.

“Take me.” Dean suddenly demanded, looking hard at Castiel. “I’m willing. We have to go now though, they’re coming. So do what you gotta do. I’m ready.”

Castiel shook his head. “I will burn right through you. There is much for you in  your future —”

“Not until I die, stupid, just until we get you patched up. I can take some burns. I’ll be okay. Just go — now!”

Without hesitation, Castiel pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead, eyes flashing that glowing pale blue before Sam’s wide eyes, and then Castiel’s human body collapsed limp on the ground in a mass of white feathers. Sam gasped, leaning over to pick him up, awkwardly, with his wings hanging limp down Sam’s long arms. He glanced back at Dean, who’s eyes glowed bright blue.

“Dean?” He gasped.

“Dean is here.” He spoke, but not like Dean. Like Castiel. “He is alive and he is letting me control. He says go.”

“Alright,” Sam nodded,  “Follow me. Keep your head down and stay quick on your feet.”

Castiel — or, Dean — nodded and followed Sam back through the woods, weaving around and through briars and dead bodies until they emerged back at the garrison station where the door was swung wide open.

Sam jogged over, despite his aching limp, with Castiel hot on his tail and slipped into the flickering building. He laid Castiel’s vessel on the floor, his wings spread wide, and shut and deadbolted the large, steel door behind them. He raced to find the medical kit and turned on the furnace.

He threw one of his knives into the furnace and let it heat while he peeled Castiel’s vessel’s overcoat away from the wound and ripped the shirt under it open. He used a wet rag and wiped away the wet and dry blood, seeing just how big the wound actually was.

“Sam, the poison is in my vessel’s blood. I cannot heal with my powers until it is gone, otherwise he will have to heal by himself.”

Sam cursed to himself. “Shit. Dean will be burned by then, won’t he?”

“It will take months.” Castiel confirmed, an apologetic look lacing Dean’s features.

“Alright, well, looks like a transfusion, then.” He muttered, going around the medical section of the small building and finding something — anything — to do a transfusion with. He found a tube from engineering and a needle from the medical kit. “Do you know his blood type?”

Dean’s features frowned and his head shook, but Castiel spoke. “I do not.”

“Come here,” he gestured over, “Quickly.”

Dean’s body sat down beside of Sam and a needle was pushed into the first vein Sam’s fingers could find. “Dean is unpleased.”

“I know,” Sam laughed quietly. “Sorry, Dean.” He muttered, quickly connecting the tube with some tape and inserting the other end into an incision he’d made, and thick, red blood filled the tube and escaped into the small incision.

Dean’s green eyes blinked furiously for a moment, and Castiel spoke through. “Dean is going unconscious. I believe you are taking too much blood.”

Sam nodded. “He’ll be okay.” He insisted, and moments later, took the needle out. “How’s the poison doing? I think it should be out by now.”

Dean’s hand reached forward and pressed two fingers to the vessel’s forehead. “It is almost cleared. Enough for me to heal slightly faster. Sam, thank you.” Dean’s voice was sincere.

“You’re welcome. Let me get you patched up and you can go home.”

Sam’s long, elegant fingers worked quickly with the alcohol and the sewing, expertly lacing the wound back together until it was tight together once more. He clipped the ends and knotted it twice, throwing another splash of alcohol onto the wound before giving it up to Castiel.

Castiel pushed Dean’s two fingers to the vessel’s forehead and like before, Dean’s green eyes glowed pale blue and then his body collapsed. Sam gasped, wrapping his arms around his older brother before he hit hard to the floor. The vessel suddenly came to life, eyes flicking open.

He began to sit up, fluffing his wings like a bird would to rid himself of any water, but Sam pushed him back down with his free hand. “No, stay down. Focus on resting — healing yourself.”

Castiel nodded, laying his head back down on the floor while Sam checked Dean over. He had gone a little out of his way for the blood, but it was nothing Dean couldn’t remake in a few hours. A few burn marks had already formed by Dean’s hairline and his wrists, but other than that, he was still perfectly Dean.

With a relieved sigh, Sam slouched against the wall while Castiel shut his eyes and focused.

“Thank you, again Sam.” He said, smoothly. “And your brother. He is truly a righteous man, at heart, though I believe I’ve seen you two somewhere else before. Like a strange, fuzzy memory.”

Castiel sat up despite Sam’s protests and pressed two fingers to Dean’s forehead, and suddenly, Dean gasped to life, hands gripping tightly at his brother’s armor, but his eyes went straight to Castiel.

“Cas. You’re okay.”

“Thank you, Dean. Without you and Sam, I would be dead — or, dying.”

Dean shook his head. “Don’t mention it. God, while I was out I had the weirdest dream. Is that possible?” He looked up to Sam, whose eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “It was you ‘n me, we did what we do now but as a family thing...and Cas ‘n I.” He looked over to Castiel with a strange look. “Do you remember?”

Castiel, with a small, sad smile, nodded. “I do.”

Sam looked between them, confused, but accepting of the secret they now shared.

~*~

*one month later*

“Thank you, Sam Winchester and Dean Winchester.” The King of their Kingdom hovered the blessed sword over each of their shoulders, a genuine smile on his elder face. “Bless your souls for saving the last Angel in existence. We welcome you brave soldiers into our kingdom, if you wish to take a place.”

Behind the King, was Castiel, a small smile on his mouth as his eyes glanced between the brothers, his wings spread wide and glowing a soft blue.

“We accept.” Dean said before Sam could deny it. Sam looked over, shocked at Dean, then back to the King who smiled. “It’d be our pleasure.”

With an accepting nod, the King stepped back, and they stood. The Angel quietly pushed through the guards and gave a small brush against the King’s shoulders, seemingly signalling him to step away. He did, and Castiel stood before either of them.

“Please, let me show you to your rooms.” Castiel said, his wings fluffing as he smiled.

The palace was open and made of diamonds and jewels and marble and mahogany — everything good and rich. Up the golden staircase, Castiel opened two doors with his hands and gestured inside. “You can choose. My quarters is through those double doors.” He pointed to the gold-detailed mahogany door. “I will be there if any questions arise.”

With nods, Sam and Dean stepped into the first room, with a small glance to one another. Inside was all mahogany floors and fancy, quilted blankets and duvets and at least ten big pillows on the mattress. A canopy shielded the bed from outsiders, and across from it was a desk and a mirror with a small ink jar and paper. Gaudy paintings of the archangels are hung all around the golden wallpapered room, until the big bay window cut it off.

“I...think this one is mine.” Dean grinned, eying mostly the large bed. “Sorry, Sammy.”

Rolling his identical green eyes, Sam scoffed. “Yeah, and you’ll be wanting to switch when you figure out mine is better!”

Only after he left did Dean realize how right he could be, and stepped outside to negotiate, when those double doors caught his sight and he found himself going to those instead. He knocked quietly, hearing a small “come in” from deep inside the room. He pushed the doors open, seeing a maze of hallway before him, and when he broke through, it was like a mini house.

Castiel stood in front of the large bay window with his wings spread wide, the sun making them glow almost orange.

“Hey, Cas.”

“Dean.” Castiel nodded, a small smile on his face when he looked over.

“So...you remember?” Dean stepped closer, fiddling with his fingers nervously. By now, the burn marks on his wrists and forehead had gone away, and what was left was only a strange memory.

“Vividly, yes, I do, actually.” Castiel confirmed, stepping forward. “Still like a hazy dream, somehow, though.”

“I remember, too. But how did I ever forget?”

“You were always a righteous man, Dean.” Castiel informed, stepping close and placing a hand on his shoulder, where it met his neck. “Always a true man of God, despite your doubts. A Michael vessel.”

Dean nodded, as if he knew, but he couldn’t find surprise, either. “What about you?”

“What about me?” Castiel’s dark eyebrows came together in slight confusion.

“We...in that dream….we were —” *Together.

Castiel nodded, a small smile on his mouth. “Yes. Indeed.”

In Dean’s dream, he remembered a more casual Castiel who had become human and liked to lounge and kiss Dean when he frowned. The man before him was too stiff and too proper to even reflect the man in his dreams, and somehow, he was disappointed.

“What happened to you?”

“I got old. You were lost to me, and only recently, when I sensed your presence in the garden, did I realize we’d always come back together — did I realize that you were here all along.”

“So?” Dean persisted, eyebrows arching expectantly.

**Castiel frowned, and Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to the Angel’s. Castiel’s form melted almost completely, naturally, and he was the Castiel in Dean’s dream once more.**


End file.
